A.N. - I have no idea why I wrote this one-shot. Nor do I know where I found the inspiration to complete it. All I know is that Rose reminds me of myself in this fic...
Is that bad?!?Humor is the great thing, the saving thing. The minute it crops up, all our irritation and
resentments slip away, and a sunny spirit takes their place. – Mark Twain
I have detention.
I, Rose Weasley, have detention.
This was all his
It was his fault for acting like such a baboon during Charms. It was his fault for starting an argument with me. It was his fault for making me draw my wand. And it was all his fault why I was now walking down to Filch’s office.
Every step I take makes me more and more infuriated with Scorpius Malfoy.
If he didn’t act like a tosser, maybe I wouldn’t have hexed him. Then again, if he didn’t act like an insufferable Malfoy, he wouldn’t have hexed me first. And in the end, Professor Flitwick wouldn’t have given us both detention tonight.
It’s not as if this hasn’t happened before. Oh, it has. Numerous times. And every time, he was the reason we got to spend more and more time with each other. How splendid. I’m a bit angrier about this particular detention because it hasn’t even been a month into term yet, and he’s managed to turn me into the first delinquent of Gryffindor. What a great way to start Seventh Year.
Father told me to stay away from Malfoy since day one, and I soon realized why. He was just like his father, Draco. While growing up, I had heard numerous stories about how pompous the Malfoy clan was. Mother usually always silenced him, or scolded him for acting so immature around me. But as soon as her back was turned I begged my father to continue to tell me more stories of his childhood, and all through his teenage years. His life, to me, was fascinating.
I was my mother’s daughter, after all. I was curious and almost too observant about old pictures and diaries around the house. I needed to know everything about this school, and what happened within the hallways. You could say my father raised me to be a bit fascist (Viva La WeasleyNation!), but it’s not as if he didn’t have a reason to. Besides, who’s to say that Scorpius Malfoy wasn’t raised the same way? I’d bet my left foot Malfoy grew up with a pie-chart on how to ruin my life on a daily basis.
And at platform 9 ¾, it wasn’t the first time my father told me to stay away from him; I kind of already went to school with Malfoy before Hogwarts.
It all started when we were in wizards’ daycare. When dad walked through the doors to find Draco Malfoy standing in the same building as him, he had a field day. Of course, Malfoy’s father had to smart mouth my father and start an argument right there in the middle of the lobby. As if fighting for years beforehand weren’t enough. Mother always told me not to ‘learn from daddy’ when he was being juvenile like that. Aunt Ginny reckons my dad’s still the same as he was over twenty years ago. But I say: If dad hasn’t matured since Hogwarts, then Malfoy Senior is a lost cause.
It was there, in that lobby, that I looked at Scorpius Malfoy for the first time. He had this coconut hair style thing going on, and I was uncomfortable with the way the light was reflecting off of his blonde hair, permanently damaging my fragile toddler retinas. So I punched him in the head. He started crying… whatever, he was a pansy.
And that’s how our rivalry began, or rather, continued, from one generation to the next.
We never really complained… hell, we welcomed it, for crying out loud. It was like our job, pushing each other’s buttons. There were times, though, where I could tell Malfoy was near defeat. He’d get real soft and try to push it away, whatever it was that caused him to back down, and then he’d make an excuse to run off. That didn’t always happen, but this year it’s like his routine for when he wants to create havoc and find a stupid reason to get in a row with me. Like now, for instance. Detention is another one of his ways to create havoc. Go figure.
Argh… I’m going to wring his neck when I see him!
Just thinking about his swollen blonde head makes me want to scratch at my eyeballs. Or rather, find an itch to scratch to create momentary pain. Either one is more than welcome, in my book, as long as I don’t have to think about that pinhead.
I hate Scorpius Malfoy. He makes me chafe.
He chafes my personal life. He chafes my friends. He chafes the lives of my loved ones. He’s a downright-chafer-prat-anator.
And even in reality, he makes me chafe! No, seriously. One time I got in such a heated argument with him that when I went to bed, I woke up the next day with what looked like a bad case of psoriasis. When it comes to ruining the life of one Rose Weasley, the boy’s got talent. I’ll give you that. Would you like to know another one of the infamous Malfoy’s other many talents? Or shall we just call them achievements?
In Third Year he set fire to my cousin, James Potter’s, Quidditch trousers. While he was still wearing them. On the Quidditch Pitch. During a match.
When Albus was reading in the library during his Fourth Year, Malfoy caused everyone word Albus thought to himself to come out from the pages. As in, speak a sentence, and the ‘nouns’ come alive and perform the ‘verb’ or action, in which you are reading about. Poor Albus was reading a book about Cornish Pixies…and the certain paragraph he was reading was about their breeding habits…That did not end well.
On Valentine’s Day last year, during lunch, he took every box of sweets I got from my friends and turned them into slugs as soon as I put them in my mouth. And then turned my reddish brown hair to Medusa-like snakes whenever I tried to tell someone about what he’d done. The snakes would scare the crapola out of every professor, and would distract them from what I had to say. The only person that took care of it was Headmistress McGonagall. But, of course, she was my last hope at the end of the day. Mark my words: At. The. End. Of. The. Day. She was my last resort when I had already suffered my entire school day like an outcast. Fortunately, she fixed it. But this did not go unscathed. Put yourself in my situation….Now you tell me, how many guys will approach you on Valentine’s Day when you look like you belong in an 80s rock band music video with a gnarly snake hair get-up and supposed slug breath?
During Hugo’s first week as a First Year, he taunted him and made him pay to use the bathroom. Malfoy also told him that if he got caught in the bathroom by himself, Moaning Myrtle would come out and chop off his ‘adolescent manhood without a single chance at taking a normal piss in the near future and take away your ability to ever have children’. Hugo had me wait outside for him every time he went to the bathroom, every single day, for about five months.
It wasn’t his fault, really. He’s always scared of everything, and Malfoy shouldn’t have scared him like that! I guess he targeted Hugo first because he was my brother…and because he was a theatre kid. Honestly, there is no other drama queen on the planet like Hugo Weasley. He is so melodramatic that sometimes I think he’s trying out a dialogue of a new play on me so I can critique. But it’s when he bursts out in song that I get very very worried. I’ve grown to get used to it. I mean, I love him dearly, but I’ve just come to realize that Hugo will be Hugo, no matter how annoying and poof-like he might seem. Although, I must say, he’d make a great poof. He’s got the perfect facial structure for it. Excellent cheek bones.
I turn the door knob to Professor Flitwick’s office and walk in. He greets me from his red cedar desk at the center of the room. Behind him are rows and rose of books on shelves, with a ladder suspending in air. There’s only one window in his office that permits sunlight, covered by dark ivory curtains. Looking from a distance, I see it’s already beginning to get dark outside.
“Ah, Miss Weasley,” he smiles.
Only Professor Flitwick could ever smile at a student he’s assigned to serve detention.
“You’re a couple minutes early.”
“As always,” I tell him. He smiles again.
“Yes, well, that is very much like you. Mister Malfoy has yet to arrive. Please, take a seat. Let me explain what you both will be doing for me tonight.”
I plant my tush in one of his dark blue plushy chairs.
“A couple years ago, Professor Slughorn had used one of the empty classrooms on the third floor for his advanced Potions students. Unfortunately, one of his students had gotten an ingredient mixed up, and during one lesson, the cauldron exploded…” He scratches the bald spot forming on his head.
Oh, dear. He does that when he’s nervous.
Professor Flitwick being twitchy is NOT good.
“Yes?” I push.
“And the student almost blew up the classroom.”
“Yes…it took so long to clean up that the faculty stopped halfway,” Professor Flitwick laughs hesitantly, “and we never really got around to cleaning the rest of it.”
He looks at me and I know he can read my face. I mean, how can you not understand the face of someone whose left eyebrow is raised so high and whose lower lip is limping so low? I look at my Charms professor, waiting for him to back up his statement. The faculty can’t be that lazy…
And then it hits me.
“How messed up is this room?”
“Uh, actually, Miss Weasley, that’s a good question…see, it’s been a decade. And there’s probably a lot of dust and soot that’s multiplied over the years. You both will be cleaning it, without wands, for detention.”
Fantastic. Stupid Malfoy’s landed us into a detention that’s infested with exploding potion remnants and hidden creepy-crawlies lurking at every corner. But whatever, it’s nothing I can’t handle. Hello, I’m Rose Freaking Weasley. I can definitely clean some old dusty classroom.
“Don’t worry, Professor Flitwick, I won’t have a problem,” I take my hair out of my clip, letting my long red locks flow behind the back of my chair, as I continue. “I’m willing to serve the detention just as you’ve assigned it, no questions asked. I am prepared, unlike Malfoy, whose two minutes late.” I put a hand through my hair and toss it over my shoulder, only to have it collide with something behind me. I can literally feel every strand slide limply and land back onto my shoulder in slow motion.
“Actually, Weasel-Bum, I’m right on time.”
That ‘something behind me’ being Scorpius Malfoy’s waist. My eyes instantly narrow as he takes the seat next to me. He shakes his light blonde hair in my direction and ruffles his hands through it. A beautiful, and expensive, emerald rock is adorned on one of his fingers. He wears that stupid ring everywhere.
“And you should be grateful for being in my presence,” he smirks.
His presence? Hah! Let me ask you this: When you run into dung on the concrete sidewalk, do you stop to admire it because you’re grateful for being in its presence?
“Well in that case, All Hail, Leader of the Blondes,” I say mockingly, arms folded.
“Now, now…” the professor reasons.
“Thanks for the speech, but I make my own grand entrance,” he says lazily.
“That wasn’t a speech. It was a eulogy,” I hiss.
“Oh, please. As if I’d want you to speak at my funeral.”
I adjust myself so I’m looking him straight in the face. “It’s either me or your incarcerated grand-father.”
His face instantly becomes murderous.
“Er, students…” we hear the professor squeak.
“It’s better than having a grandmother who knits you unicorn sweaters on your thirteenth birthday,” Malfoy retorts quickly.
That was one time!
“It’s better than having a ferret as a father.”
Malfoy is silent and even Professor Flitwick gasps.
See? Even he
knows how far this rivalry is. And in a dangerous game like this one, you never, ever, mention your rival’s parent’s nick name. Not in any situation. It’s like an unspoken rule. Which is why I thought it was the perfect time break it.
Looking at the blonde’s handsome face, I scan for obvious signs of defeat. But instead of weakness, I see a glimmer of triumph in his eyes.
“It’s better than having a mudblood for a mother.”
My mouth falls open. Anger instantly runs through my veins, almost boiling me on the spot. I open my mouth, ready to curse the living brains off of the dung beetle in front me, when Professor Flitwick screams out.
He slaps his wand with such force against his desk that he almost breaks it in half. Even though I’m completely furious at the moment, I’m kind of relieved he didn’t break his wand. Knowing Flitwick, his wand would have snapped back and stabbed him right in the eye. And I have enough problems as it is.
“It seems that I was right about the tasks I have assigned you; it isn’t too harsh at all. You two are to clean the abandoned classroom on the third floor this instant! And you may not leave without completely cleaning it from head to toe!”
That could take hours, even until late morning! “But, Professor Flitwick!” I cannot and will not be in a room with possible dust monsters and termite damage with Scorpius Malfoy for the whole night.
“You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, I certainly am, Mister Malfoy.” Our Charms professor is clearly pissed. I’ve never seen him so red. He kind of looks like a jalapeno pepper if you tilt your head to the right-
“Stop tilting your head and look at me, Miss Weasley!”
“Right, sorry,” I apologize. Flitwick’s already at his wits end and I don’t want to infuriate him more than he already is. Lord knows, there are enough teachers that dislike both Malfoy and I because of our ability to ‘distract our peers from learning wizard’s education’ while having rows in class.
“Give me your wands,” he beckons.
The spawn of Satan next to me gives Professor Flitwick his wand, and I do the same.
“Now, I’ve conjured up your buckets to re-fill with clean water and your sponges to be replaced every ten minutes. Do not waste time arguing,” he tells us wisely. I swallow what feels like freedom down my throat.
“And maybe, it will give you two some time to think about your actions and what you might be bringing to Hogwarts in the near future if you two do not cease the arguing…” Flitwick trails off and then mumbles to himself, “Like social destruction.”
I’m in the detention from Hell.
With Satan's son himself.
I underestimated the state the classroom was in..
It was completely disastrous.
A war zone.
The very pit of the Hunchback’s lair.
There were cobwebs in every corner. The floorboards were shattered up. I mean the windows where the only objects still in tact! And even those had pounds of dust resting on the ledges. The board was a mix of unreadable note scratches and cracked spots where something seemed to burst through the wall. To make matters worse, it was hot and muggy and the soot made everything stick to me as soon as I walked in. Excellent.
First we tried moving the broken desks and chairs to one side of the room. But then we got into a fight about who was stronger (I was, obviously). After that, I decided to open up the blinds but that just literally blinded me, because the dust came at me at a lightning speed and I almost coughed out a lung. Then the set of blinds fell and caused our entire pile of dust to go around everywhere again and then Malfoy yelled at me.
So I yelled at him about yelling at me when he could be doing something else.
Then he retorted with something about how I was incompetent.
Needless to say, I flipped my lid.
Incompetent, my ARSE!
“Pass me the bucket,” I tell him.
“No, get it yourself.”
And that leads me to now. For the past ten minutes, I’ve been trying to scrub the floors and pick up the bits of mess lying around – while Malfoy took it upon himself to empty the shelves and clean the dust off every object resting on them. This included broken vases of glass, books, and used vials with ugly potion residue.
I am currently kneeling, getting my pants dirty, trying to clean this stain off the floor.
“Malfoy,” I growl. “You’re already up. Just pass me the bucket.”
He turns around and smirks. “Sorry, Weasley. I’m a bit busy.” He takes the dust rag and sarcastically moves it across the shelf, pretending to be interested in dust mites more than me. What a prick.
“Fine.” I get up and dust myself off, which is just a lost cause in itself, really, and reach for the bucket. I bend down to get a hold of the handle when Malfoy kicks it over with his foot, causing all the water to spill all over me, including my tank top.
“You bloody idiot!” I screech.
I cannot believe he would do that!
“Sorry,” he says, even though he isn’t sorry at all.
I want to strangle him. Throw him into a volcano. Rip him to pieces!
He’s like this annoying little scare crow that’s slowly pecking my flesh away.
Alright, that was a bit too Hugo of me.
“You’re such a dickhead!”
He turns around swiftly.
“You heard me! You can’t be mature for five seconds. And you always complain that I’m the problem!”
My mouth falls open. You’ve got to be kidding me.
“I am not mad.”
“You’re nuts, absolutely crazy if you think that-”
“Shut the hell up, before I stomp on your little head and turn you into a Smurf!”
He scoffs. I glare.
We get back to work.
This is why I hate him. He has to make life so much worse than it actually is. He chooses just the right moments to get under my skin. Oh, the things I’d love to do to that boy. If there was a set of pliers and duct tape in this room right now, I’d be more than glad to show you. Not only is he completely arrogant, but he feels the need to let people know they are below him. Now that’s just too self-righteous for my tastes. Malfoy isn’t normal. He’s this vermin that feeds off of people. He’s sucking my life dry, let alone chafing me! He’s just this big… stupid…
YES – that’s exactly
what he is! He’s this filthy, loathesome, blonde annoyance from hell! But that’s a given, considering his last name.
“Damn, its hell in here,” mumbles the FLB annoyance. I look up to find his back to me.
“Just like home, then,” I snap spitefully, before getting back to scrubbing the floor with my dirty wet self. Ugh. Malfoy looks at me and I see his face covered with soot and dust, making him look ruggedly sexy. He throws me a look that reads ‘Sod off!’.
See? Another reason why I hate him so much; he’s too damn attractive. You think I like staring at his bum whenever he bends over to pick up his books? Of course not. He could help me out by growing a third eyeball, but no – he just has two. The inconsiderate bastard.
And then he takes his shirt off.
Yeah. That’s right.
Here I am, about to go back to scrubbing this adorable green vat of larva from the ground, when the FLB annoyance decides it’s just too damn humid for him, and has to take his shirt off.
I rest my forehead on the ground and try to regain my composure.
I’m effing Rose Weasley. I shouldn’t be impressed by the work Quidditch has done on this boy’s body. I shouldn’t be impressed with how his stomach slowly dips in a V formation and disappears in his pants. I shouldn’t be impressed that his jaw line is all grimy and it makes him look fantastic.
“What are you doing?” I hear him ask, sounding completely perplexed at the sight before him.
Trying not to think about how bloody shaggable you look half naked, you annoying, sexy, beautiful, demonic man!
“Contemplating my sins,” I retort, without moving my head from the ground.
“Er…whatever.” He goes back to pulling the books off the shelves. And I try to go back to cleaning the floor.
Before I know it, an hour passes in silence. And it’s unbearable.
“Say something before my eyeballs roll to the back of my head,” I say loudly.
“Oh, too bad. I can’t talk. I’m a dickhead, remember?” His eyebrow does that twitch-y thing where he raises it kinda high and the other eyebrow only goes up half way.
Just to get on his nerves, I smirk. “Well, I’m glad you admitted it for once.”
He narrows his eyes and folds his arms in a pissed off-schoolgirl kinda way. Hah.
“What did you say? I’m having a hard time hearing you, my ears are too full with your bullshit,” he smugly smirks back, sticking a finger in his ear and pretending to shake something out of it.
I bite my tongue.
Don’t say it…
Stay calm, Rose…
No need to fight with the pompous prick.
“Get one of your girls to stick their hooker heels in there and clean it out for you, then.” I cross my arms.
“Hah! Like you don’t have a pair of heels to match.”
“Are you insinuating that I’m a hooker like the rest of your fan girls?” Oh, the boy did not just go there.
His eyes are all glittery with interest. He’s enjoying this, the git. “I’m not insinuating anything. Just saying, I’ve seen you in heels. You’re quite vicious in them, if I do say so myself.”
What the hell does that even mean?!
I chew on the inside of my cheek and try to stop from going red. I vigorously go back and scrub the floor raw. I hear him laugh slightly. Just a little chuckle. And that’s all it takes to show that it’s the end of the discussion. That he’s won.
Malfoy decides to repair a desk and lies down with a hammer and a set of nails on the ground next to him. I finish the left side of the dingy classroom and get up off the ground. I move to the right side of the room, which is unfortunately closer to Malfoy than I’m comfortable with. I see a furry plant that’s grown in between two cracked and broken tiles. I huff and lean over, trying to grab my gloves a couple feet away. There is no way I’m touching this fluffy creature over here without my gloves, who knows what the hell that is! Woah, I just saw it jiggle.
The plant just vibrated! This is NOT normal.
It looks like someone’s stuck a feather duster in the middle of a crack in the ground. Image the feather duster dancing. Then image it vibrating while doing the hokey-pokey. You understand how strange that is, don’t you? You understand my struggle with this floor creature, yes?
“Ugh,” I wince as I pull at the roots. I see Scorpius Malfoy from the corner of my eye, and I try not to stare at his flexing bicep. I put my focus back on pulling the organism from the ground, and I do pull it out eventually. After ten minutes. The most excruciating ten minutes of my life.
I look up from the ground to find Scorpius staring at my necklace.
Wait…I’m not wearing a necklace.
I look down.
OH MY GOD!
My tank top is low-cut and just made it possible for him to look down my chest! That…that hormonal teenage boy just ogled my boobs! I saw him entranced by my lady melons! I can’t even form words, so my mouth just falls open. Scorpius quickly notices me looking at him with my mouth agape, and he adverts his eyes. He knows I’ve caught him, except I’m so embarrassed I can’t even dwell on it. He picks up another screw and monotonously hammers it to the bottom of the table.
Not that I’m staring at Scorpius lying down in that cute position.
“I’m going to say this once, and only once,” he announces randomly. I pretend to be looking at something as he speaks.
Oh, hey, liked the view from my shirt?
“I take back what I said about your mother,” he says quickly. Almost too quickly; I’m lucky I comprehended what he said, since he wasn’t going to repeat himself.
Oh…OH. Calling my mum a mudblood?
I kind of want to throw a sponge at his head, but he’s actually apologizing to me. And I don’t want to ruin this. Even though I can’t stand him, I want to dwell in this, for some odd reason. The fact that he’s said this to me just now…it’s something he’s never done. It’s taken me by surprise, and I don’t really know how to respond to it. Maybe he isn’t insufferable ALL the time.
“Fine, then. I take back what I said about your family, too.” I look at him and he has a somber thing going on with his eyes. Ugh, why is he so human right now?
Makes me want to punch his lights out.
“Okay,” he responds quietly.
“Yeah,” I mumble awkwardly.
Let’s go back to fighting, damn it.
“You’re doing that all wrong,” he comments. Ah, yes. Here it comes. The boy can read my mind.
“Oh, really…. I didn’t know you could pull plants out of the ground in more than one correct way.”
My jaw clenches. “Obviously,
there’s no wrong way to do what I’m doing.”
“That’s what YOU think.”
“No – it’s what I KNOW.”
Back to where we were: at each other’s throats.
“You have a problem with people correctly you, you know that?”
“Gee, Malfoy. You’ve totally got me down pat. Nice job,” I sarcastically snap at him.
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he smirks. My jaw hurts. Maybe it’s from trying not to growl at the FLB annoyance in front of me. Or maybe I have a dental problem.
“You look like you want to bark at me,” he says after a while.
Yep, definitely the former.
“Okay, you can’t just do that, switch personalities. It drives me nuts! I am not serving the rest of this detention with you if you legit insist on trying to act twisted.”
What, I can’t be blunt?
“What the bloody hell is your problem?” Scorpius looks a bit shocked.
“My problem?” I throw my sponge down and get up hastily. “MY PROBLEM!?”
“Merlin, oh- Sodding- now don’t start barking-”
“You’re a freaking prat, that’s what my problem is… you… personality challenged… bint!”
He is clearly unaffected. How aggravating!
“You have some nerve. First you’re a complete arse to me, and then you ignore me. Next thing I know you’re apologizing for all sorts of shit that doesn’t make sense. I mean why would you of all people be sorry for something you obviously wanted to do?”
He rolls his eyes.
I stomp my foot on the ground.
“And then you do something like that! DON’T ROLL YOU’RE FRICKING EYES AT ME!”
“You’re nuts! Stop –”
“No! YOU STOP! Why do you always get all soft when I’m ready to hex you? How come you glued my skirt to my seat when I hadn’t even insulted you in a day? Why is it that you glare at me when ever I fix my hair!? Merlin, you do all these stupid things –”
Scorpius tosses the nails to the side and stands up, in all of his half naked glory.
He drops the hammer and looks like a mix between pissed and angry. Not a good mix.
Just how I like it.
all the stupid things?”
“Hell yes! You ignorant git!” I insult.
“Good one,” he responds in monotone.
“ARGH!” I throw my hands in the air.
“What!” He throws his hands in the air, mimicking me.
“Why the hell are you mimicking me? You are so bloody weird!”
“I’m not the weird one, you’re the indecisive one.”
“Hah! That’s a joke –”
“NO. It’s not, Weasley. You can’t decide whether you actually want to talk to me, or insult me. And that ticks me off. That’s what makes me want to glue your skirt to your desk, glare at you when you put your red hair in a ponytail, why I don’t see you as an enemy when you get fuming angry. Which is why I back off, because it looks like you’re arguing with yourself the whole bloody time.”
I swallow a nervous lump in my throat.
“That makes no sense,” I say like an immature child, with my nose pointed up.
He glares at me and licks his lips in (angry) thought. Did he just try to seduce me just now? No…? No, must be my imagination.
I look at him. “What?”
“Why do you drive me nuts?”
“Why do you try to ruin my life?”
“Why do you make me want to get your attention all the time?” He walks closer to me.
I take a step back, hesitantly. Is he going to whack me in the face? Considering the 2 to 1 muscle-size ratio at the moment… he’d have a good shot at knocking me out and running. Could tell Flitwick a pot landed on my head or something. Damn, Malfoy is devious.
“You don’t make sense, ever. You have these weird mood swings at random moments, Malfoy. Can’t you just be my enemy? I know you hate me as much as I hate you, so at least try to keep up the ‘mysterious’ mask thing in front of me, okay? That’s the way it’s supposed to be,” I rush out kind of annoyed, kind of wondrous.
I swear he just smiled a bit. “I’m mysterious?”
I roll my eyes as he steps closer. “Not that mysterious. You smolder sometimes.”
His laughter echoes off the walls as he shakes his head. “Wow, Weasley.”
I cross my arms defensively, my eyebrows together. “Yeah?” I test.
“You’ve got me down pat… all figured out, don’t you?” He smirks at the reaction on my face.
Little git! He’s mocking me from what I said before.
“So what if I do? Isn’t that what you’re most afraid of? The rival knowing your next step?” I try to sound unafraid and completely challenging, but I’m not sure if it’s coming out right.
He takes another step; we’re an arms length away from each other.
“Hah, you wish. If only you know how I figured you
out.” Scorpius wags his finger at me.
“Let me guess, you know my next step?” My foot hitting you in the crotch, for example?
He’s now all up in my face; the word ‘close’ will never be used in the same context again. I can see every eyelash on his eyelids. Legit. Scorpius Malfoy is all up in my business.
“More like two steps ahead, Weasley.” His breath tickles my face.
I silently breathe through my nose. All the while trying not to stare at his bare chest.
I hear him chuckle. “Tell me, what do you see when you look at me?”
“A filthy, loathesome, blonde annoyance.”
He smirks. “Good.”
Even though the dust from the classroom and the soot from the floor has clogged my nasal passages, it doesn’t stop me from absorbing his scent. Gosh, he smells so…enticing.
I swear Malfoys’ were put on this planet just to entice the Weasley clan. For all the wrong reasons, mind you.
“Tell me,” I mock, “What do you see when you look at me?”
“A good for nothing redhead with significant issues, like myself.”
I raise my eyebrow in intrigue. “Really.”
“Face it, Weasley. You’ve got problems.”
I try not to grit my teeth too loudly. “And what might those problems be?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he coos, looking up at the ceiling before crashing his eyes back onto mine. “Confidence issues? Problems with following up on what you really want to do?” Scorpius is dangerously close to me now.
“I do what ever I want to do.”
“I highly doubt that,” he grunts.
“Because I have a reason to doubt, that’s why. I believe that there are things you stop yourself from doing because you don’t have the confidence to do them. And that’s where I come in.”
“Sorry?” I ask impossibly. Where’s the git going with this?
“That’s why you dislike me so much. I follow up on things you fail to accomplish, and you hate that. You hate that I can finish what you start.”
“Now that’s just bullocks-”
He takes me by the neck and snakes his fingers through my hair and puts his lips on mine.
Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy…Well, I never.
I put my hands in his hair and throw my arms around his shoulders, down his back, scratching him with my nails. This only makes him more responsive as he grabs my waist and brings me closer. Malfoy tastes like soot and mangos, the hell. He is NOT human.
He tastes dangerous.
And I bloody love it.
Scorpius gently pushes my face away but still grips my face in his hands. He’s looking fiery, satisfying, and smug. I can only imagine what I look like.
“Why’d you stop?” I ask, annoyed.
He chuckles and then thinks for a bit. “Because, like I said, it’s always me finishing up your work.” Scorpius winks.
“Well I didn’t start this,” I clarify.
“Then why did you have to finish it if I didn’t start it?”
“Because I knew you wouldn’t.”
“Well why did you have to start it then?”
“Because I knew you wouldn’t!”
“What makes you think I don’t have enough confidence to snog you, Malfoy?!”
“I know you don’t have any, I had to show you that. OBVIOUSLY.” I hate that freaking word.
He pisses me off.
Why is he so sexy?
“Merlin, you’re such a cow. Accept that I finish things, damn it!”
“I’m not a cow, you git and a half. You snogged me first!” I soon lose my train of thought as I remember how we just remarkably snogged (fantastically). “Why’d you stop again?”
He’s quiet. “I had to prove a point to you...?” Scorpius tries on.
“Now don’t go mumbling about, speak louder.”
“I had a freaking point to prove, you bint!”
“Alright, then! Now that that’s out of the way, do you mind if we could-”
He kisses me again, grabbing me by the face and scruffily adding, “Gladly.”
I can’t stand him. I really can’t.
A.N. - My second Rose/Scorpius one-shot =]
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